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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977072">automatonophobia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentimentalPackrat/pseuds/sentimentalPackrat'>sentimentalPackrat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Five Nights at Freddy's</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Drabble, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt, Family, Family Angst, Family Feels, Family Issues, Family Reunions, Father-Son Relationship, Fear, Ficlet, Five Nights at Freddy's 3, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Men Crying, Non-Consensual Cuddling, Non-Consensual Hugging, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Pain, Possessed Animatronics (Five Nights at Freddy's), Psychological Trauma, Sentient Animatronics (Five Nights at Freddy's), Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:40:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentimentalPackrat/pseuds/sentimentalPackrat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Springtrap's fingers hit a ridge against the wall, making him jump somewhat. His head whipped to the side, eyes wide.</p><p>… Someone.</p><p>Someone was…</p><p>Was this? A window? A window... looking into another room.</p><p>And someone looked back. </p><p>Someone. A person. </p><p>Someone.</p><p>Finally.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Afton &amp; Springtrap, Michael Afton &amp; William Afton | Dave Miller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>206</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>automatonophobia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was hard to see. Lights reflected brightly in Springtrap's eyes, obscuring his vision. Lights flickered from the faces hanging on the walls, blinding him momentarily, only to plunge him into darkness once again. The halls seemed to stretch on forever, endless dim, dizzying halls that made him nauseous - he'd say it made his stomach turn, but he's not certain he still had one of those.</p><p>How long had it been like this? How long had he been stuck like this? Who knows how many years, trapped in darkness - trapped in this suit. It had come to the point that William, Springtrap, had forgotten what it was like outside of it. To be human. To be normal.</p><p>Springtrap leaned against the wall as he walked, a free hand dragging against the painted, sickly green plaster. The support helped ease his limp. Laughter sounded from the other room, but he was able to resist it. He hadn't been able to at first, but he was stronger now. </p><p>A turn, and Springtrap found himself coming down a hallway he hadn't found before. Muffled excitement sparked in his chest. For a moment, he allows himself a small bit of hope (maybe he'd finally escape, finally leave, finally die), before just as quickly dismissing it. Surely, if his suffering hadn't ended by now, he would be cursed to live this nightmare out for the rest of eternity. Hell, maybe he was already dead - well, even more dead than he already was. Or perhaps he had finally gone insane.</p><p>Springtrap's fingers hit a ridge against the wall, making him jump somewhat. His head whipped to the side, eyes wide.</p><p>… Someone.</p><p>Someone was…</p><p>Was this? A window? A window... looking into another room.</p><p>And someone looked back.</p><p>Someone. A person.</p><p>Someone.</p><p>Springtrap held his eyes open as wide as he could bare, trying to train in on the person - a rather difficult feat, considering how shit his vision's gotten.</p><p>Someone who looked almost deathly in the darkness, dark hair, purple clothing. Someone. Anyone.</p><p>Laughter again, coming from the other room. But, the phantoms couldn't distract him now. Someone. He had someone. Right there. They were here.</p><p>It takes everything in Springtrap's power to manage to turn away from the person (lest he turn back again to find them gone) to continue trudging down the hall, limp more prominent as he picked up his pace. </p><p>Laughter. Taunting him. Ghosts of his past trying to lure him away, trying to trick him. If he went back, he'd surely die. </p><p>Metallic hands scramble for purchase, gripping the edge of the wall. Springtrap nearly throws himself into the room, stumbling into the office, nearly falling flat on his face. He catches himself against the wall. His eyes dart about the new room,  trying to take in all of the sights, trying to find the someone. </p><p>A choked out gurgle of surprise escapes him as he spots them. His mechanical eyelids flip open, trying to take in the entirety of the person in front of him.</p><p>Springtrap winces as the person screams, long and loud and fearful, and his head rings and the room goes dizzy once again. The person pushes back from their chair, scrambling awkwardly to their feet. He can see them trembling.</p><p>Scared. Just like him.</p><p>Just like him, he-</p><p>… It was like looking in a mirror.</p><p>Well, not anymore. For a moment, Springtrap wonders if this is another illusion. Another way his unhinged mind has decided to torture him. Seeing who he used to be, and now the monster he's become. </p><p>But, then he sees the differences. The longer, wavier hair that's turned a mix of gray and brunet due to age and stress. The blueish-purple eyes. The cuts and scars all over him, as though he'd been cut apart and Frankenstein'd back together.</p><p>Michael… His eldest. His baby boy.</p><p>William doesn't know if he can cry anymore, but he feels close to it. His knees feel weak - or, rather, weaker than before. He wants to do so many things. Fall to his knees and weep, have his son in his arms again and hold him close (like when he was so young, when he was still the baby of the family, his baby boy), hug Michael, speak to Michael, beg for forgiveness, for him to stay, please don't leave him alone again, he can't be alone-!</p><p>Springtrap pushes himself forward, limping and reaching out. His son's name tears from his throat. "M- Mike!"</p><p>Michael presses himself up against the far wall, poor boy's knees seeming to almost give out for a moment. </p><p>He must be so afraid.</p><p>A whimper gurgles up from within Springtrap. No, please don't be afraid. Don't run. Don't leave him…! But, Michael only answers with another scream, raspy and terrified. The last Afton child scrambles and shuffles in place momentarily, as though considering his options, before eventually falling to his knees and trying to crawl hurriedly through the vent.</p><p>"Mike- Michael!" Springtrap rasped. "Don't run!"</p><p>Michael never gets the chance.</p><p>A mechanical hand clenches around his pantleg and drags him out screaming. Michael thrashes in the animatronics grip, trying to squirm and kick his way free - but, possessing an animatronic had it's perks, that being an inhuman amount of strength.</p><p>"M- Michael! Stop!" William chokes out. "Listen to your father!"</p><p>A feeling of warmth crackles within him, fondness and nostalgia washing over him. It reminds him of when Michael was young and temperamental, throwing tantrums and having to be chastised.</p><p>Before… Elizabeth. Before Charlie. Before...</p><p>William held Mike in his grip for a moment, trying to find a way to reposition him to get a better hold - before eventually giving up, and sinking to a sitting position on the floor. A scream of pain tears from his broken throat as his lower body hit the floor, horrible remnants of pain shooting through his entirety. In return, Michael flinches and shakes. He can feel his son tremble with fear in his hold. </p><p>He must be so scared. He knows how that feels. But, it's okay. He hasn't hurt anyone in a long time. And he'd never hurt Michael.</p><p>A shaky hand reaches up to pet at Mike's hair. Springtrap's movements are awkward and clunky, and it looks more like he's softly batting at Michael's head. It's funny. It's sad. He wants to laugh and cry at the same time.  But, mostly he just wants to hold his son for a long while. Maybe forever.</p><p>"Please…" Michael whispers. "Please, don't kill me."</p><p>A whimper murmurs from within Springtrap. He pulls Michael even closer into his hold, wrapping his arms around his son's back and pressing him against his suit. Now, Springtrap feels himself shaking, too. He'd cry if he could. But was also too terrified to do so, at the same time. He can't cry, lest the moisture make the springlocks dig in even deeper- though, would that really matter at this point? Was he even the body inside the suit anymore, or was he just the machine?</p><p>This must be how they feel.</p><p>Springtrap loosens his grip slightly, pulling away to meet his son's eyes.</p><p>"'M not, I won't. Won't hu't you, Mikey." He promises. "It's m- me, it's dad."</p><p>Michael's wide, indigo eyes stare up into his father's. And something lights up with joy inside of Springtrap. He can feel it, see it. Michael knows it's him. He sees him. He's here, he's real, he's alive. They both are. Springtrap shakes, mechanical parts clattering inside him.</p><p>It reminds him of how Mikey would sit on his lap while he worked on his blueprints, or when they'd watch television in the evenings, or when Michael was really little, just a baby, and he'd sleep on William's chest.</p><p>God, he's missed him. He loves his son. He loves his baby boy so much. His family. The only family he has left. </p><p>"'M sorry, Mikey, 'm so sorry," Springtrap sobbed dryly. "Please f'rgive me, I love you…"</p><p>Michael's heart pounds against his ribcage, chest heaving with his frantic breathing, tears pricking at his eyes. Henry was right. He'd said he'd find his father here. </p><p>
  <em> You may not recognize him at first, but it's still him. </em>
</p><p>And he was right.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Listen to me. Listen. I know William is The Worst but. I need Afton family fluff. I need Springtrap to love and miss his son. I need Mike to struggle with his complex emotions regarding is father, both loving him because he's his father and hating him for what he's done. Blease.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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